The Lord is my shepherd; I shall drive like crap (idea)

One lane, two cars, in a battle of wills. It was my tiny blue Galant versus a large white SUV, on the skinny nighttime roads of Brooklyn. I was in an ambling mood, content with driving down the street nicely in tune with the legalspeed limit. I had no-name classical music blasting, in the car and in my head, making me feel giddy-high. Ba-Dum! Gas, brake. BA-DUM! Gas, gas, brake. And so I made my way down the street.

The person driving the SUV apparently didn’t think it was a time for leisurely driving, or even obeying limits. His or her high beams were flashing in my rear view mirror, politely insisting that I get the fuck out of the way. At the next stop sign the front of the behemoth crept its way up to the back of my car. Any closer, and our cars would have been humping. I drove on and big whitey followed; there we were, nose to ass, inching down the street. Yes. I slowed down. A lot. I don’t like being strong-armed from behind when I’m not doing anything wrong.

Turning a corner allowed the SUV to wedge past me on the right, thus gaining the space to cut off two lanes of traffic and then blow the red light, leaving me only to assume that the driver had somewhere very important to be. As it sped away, I had just enough time to read the single bumper sticker:

Gee, I thought, that’s really nice, but wait a second! Would the Lord really advocate that kind of driving? Would He approve of that sort of hostile vehicular bullying? I’m going to guess no, He wouldn’t. Judging by precedent, Jesus would probably let every big spoiler, modified-Honda speed demon pass him, ride his ass and flip him the bird without ever once losing his cool. He’d ride behind every boat-driving slowpoke doing thirty in the fast lane, and he wouldn’t honk the horn.